Fix You
by kachilee07
Summary: But I will try, to fix you - One Shot (Reviews are not necessary - this was done for me)


**Author's Note: This is incredibly personal. And pretty much everything that went through my head today. I should stop writing when I get like this because stupid shit comes out. It doesn't necessarily make sense, but whatever. **

**Don't feel pressured to review. I didn't write this so people would pat me on the back. I did this one for me. Hoping that maybe writing would help me get through this. I haven't figured out if it worked yet or not.**

* * *

She sat, alone, on the beach, the darkness surrounding her. The sound of the waves crashing onto the shore was her only company. Her feet were buried in the sand, knees drawn up to her chest as her head rested on them, gazing out into the pitch black of the ocean. A few stars shone above her, but she couldn't be bothered to look up.

It was overwhelming. Sitting there, allowing her thoughts to run rampant in her head. She had held back all day, pushing them to the side, hoping that would be enough. But the moment she had stopped, the moment she was alone, she broke.

The tears came, slowly at first. She couldn't help it. Her emotions flowed from her, escaping through her eyes. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but it did nothing to help.

She was alone. And if she were honest with herself, she was scared. Her past was nothing but darkness. Nothing but hurt and lies. And her future didn't look much better. She had messed up, screwed up her entire life. And she had no way to fix it. She couldn't even begin to think how to do it.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't even notice a male figure joining her. He sat down next to her, silently, just watching her. The movement of his legs stretching out in front of him caught her eye. She turned her head, eyes widening slightly in recognition.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice croaking out in the night air.

"I knew you'd be here," was his simple response.

She didn't say anything, just continued to stare out into the dark water. After a few minutes, his voice broke the silence.

"Talk to me."

Once again, she didn't respond. He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Maybe if you talk, you'll feel better. I can help…"

She cut him off with a derisive laugh.

"Help? You think you can help? What would you know about what I'm going through?" she asked, an almost mocking tone to her voice. Her head lifted from her knees, turning to face him fully for the first time. "What would you know about how fucked up my life is? You with your perfect life, perfect job, perfect girlfriend. You know _nothing_ about me."

"I know you don't deserve this."

She gave another short, humorless laugh. "What if I do?"

"You don't."

Her eyes landed on his. Slowly, she contemplated his words, trying to figure out if he meant them or not. After what seemed like ages, she turned to face the water again before speaking once more.

"It's easy for you to say that. But you don't mean it. No one ever does. If it were true, then this wouldn't have happened."

He sat there, waiting patiently with his eyes still trained on her form. She wasn't finished.

"I am the mistake. I am the substitute. I'm the girl that you fool around with, but am never serious about. I will never be the one. I'll always be second best, if even that. Never good enough. I'm the girl with the baggage that no one in their right mind would want to take on. I'm not the prettiest. Nor am I the skinniest. I'm not the one that makes you stop and say 'She's gorgeous.' I'm not the one you dream about. I'm the one who sits back while everyone else gets their happy endings. I'm the one who's royally fucked up her life, yet despite all of that I still stay quiet. Because to talk about it or show any of that means you're weak. And stupid."

She took another deep breath, hand coming up to brush away the few tears that escaped.

"I have to fix everyone else. I have to make everything better. And I can't do that when I'm a fucked up mess like this."

"But what about you?" he finally asked quietly. She glanced at him, not knowing what he was asking. "Who helps put you back together when you break?"

"Me," was all she said.

Hearing enough, his hand closed around her wrist, pulling her up before beginning to drag her behind him.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, completely puzzled. He stopped, making her almost bump into him. His eyes bored into her own, gaze intense. She couldn't read his expression, nor could she tear her eyes away. Suddenly, his features relaxed. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Just follow me."

She allowed him to guide her back up the beach towards her hotel, stopping briefly to rinse off their feet on the boardwalk. They rode the elevator up in silence, not even glancing at each other, yet his hand remained on her wrist. As they approached her door, he held his hand out. She placed the key in his palm, watching as he unlocked the room and stepped inside.

A single light was on next to the bed, her stuff laid haphazardly on the floor in the living area. He tossed the room key on the dresser before turning to face her. Her eyes were downcast, unwilling to look at him. Outside there was a whole world that could act as a buffer. She could escape out there. But in this small room there was nothing to separate them. It was just them.

His hand came up under her chin, lifting her face to his before moving to cup her cheek. His thumb brushed over her skin gently. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at him, unsure of what he was doing.

"You're beautiful," he murmured to her, his lips inches from her own.

"Stop," she whispered mere seconds before their mouths touched.

It was brief, nothing more than a simple meeting of lips. He pulled back, forehead resting on hers, to gauge her reaction. Her eyes welled up, but she was determined not to let her emotions get the better of her again.

"No," she said. "I – I can't…" she started, trying to back away, but his hands held her in place, one on the small of her back and one cupping the back of her neck. "I can't do this. You can't do this. Let me go," she demanded weakly. He shook his head at her.

"You're beautiful," he repeated. "Let me show you."

Her eyes widened at him as her arms came up to push out of his grasp. She sat down slowly on the bed, drawing her knees to her chest once more. He sat down next to her, careful to keep his distance.

"Let me try to fix you."

Pulling her into his arms, he held her, shifting so they were laying down. Her head rested on his chest, body pressed up against his. After a few minutes, he felt her relax into his embrace.

She laid there, emotions running rampant. Why was he doing this? Was it just some pity thing? Did he feel bad for her? But as she laid in his arms, she realized how different this was. This was simple, sweet. No pressure, no expectations. And for once, she was put first.

His hand stroked her hair casually, the other running in lazy circles on her back, yet his hold on her never faltered. Slowly, her eyes shut as she drifted off.

* * *

She woke the next morning, head still resting on his chest, his arms still wrapped tightly around her. Moving softly, she slipped out of his embrace and crept towards the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, she saw the same girl there. Nothing had changed overnight. But as she glanced from his sleeping form back to her reflection, a small smile appeared on her face.

Maybe things would start to change. Maybe one day this wouldn't hurt so much. And maybe then she could begin to fix it.


End file.
